


An Awkward Interlude

by dendriticgold



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1429819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendriticgold/pseuds/dendriticgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas and Jimmy share an awkward moment in between the events of S3 and the S3 CS. aka. Thomas is angry, Jimmy's in tears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Awkward Interlude

Thomas didn’t think it was fair. Alfred had once dropped food while serving dinner, and in the Dowager’s lap no less, and he only received a minor ticking off from Carson (and, to Thomas’s misfortune, had still been allowed to go to the Pictures that night).  
So no, it wasn’t fair that Carson had just ordered Jimmy ‘into the office’ (Downton code for ‘You’ve REALLY gone and done it this time’) for the simple crime of spilling food down Lady Mary.

True, the stew that he spilt was hot (and could have caused injury) and was guaranteed to stain (unlike the fairly innocuous seafood that Alfred had dropped) and he had spilt it (a LOT of it) through no fault but his own (i.e. Alfred had most certainly had no hand in it) and yes, he may have followed his mistake with the loud utterance of a word denoting an act that was improper to bring up in polite conversation…  
But still…Thomas didn’t find it fair.

He quickly followed on the heels of Mr Carson and Jimmy as they entered the office, refusing to be cowed by the irritated look that Mr Carson shot in his direction for doing so.

‘Mr Carson!’ Said Thomas brightly, as though greeting an old friend in the street. ‘Do you remember that time Alfred had the Dowager Countess wearing Mrs Patmore’s fish course?’ He finished with a very pointed and reproachful look at Mr Carson.

Carson knew exactly what Thomas was getting at. He briefly riled in indignation, his thought process echoing that of Thomas moments before (minus the assertion that giving Jimmy a good talking to would be ‘unfair’), but it didn’t take long for Thomas’s unsubtle reproach to begin to work it’s magic.

If there was one useful thing Thomas had learnt over the past months it was that Carson (for some unfathomable reason) had a soft spot for Alfred, and absolutely hated people pointing it out (particularly with regards to accusations of favoritism, which flew in the face of every instinct of professionalism that Carson liked to claim as his own).

Sensing Carson’s hesitation, Thomas quickly spoke again.

‘I can take it from here, Mr Carson.’ He said with an easy smile and a quick glance towards Jimmy (who looked utterly unaffected by the conflict being waged in his name). ‘I’ll speak to James about his mistake.’

With a dissatisfied grunt at having been outmaneuvered, Carson gave a small nod and made his way out into the corridor, closing the office door behind him.

Jimmy’s demeanor altered dramatically the second Carson was out of the room and he was left alone with Thomas. A thick, unpleasant and hostile atmosphere immediately descended in the room.

It made Thomas’s skin crawl, but he did his best to disregard it. Disregarding hostility from the ‘Footman’ quarter had become something of an art form ever since the unfortunate incident.

‘So what happened there Ji…James?’ Said Thomas, walking closer to Jimmy’s position by Carson’s desk in order to perch on the side of it.  
‘What’s it to you?’ Jimmy spat back, taking a deliberate and overly emphasised step back.

Thomas fought to quell the sensation of having been slapped in the face, a feeling that had become all too familiar of late, and suppressed the resulting sigh.

‘It’s important to make sure nothing like this happens again, James.’ Said Thomas gently. ‘So tell me, what caused the accident?’

‘It was nothing.’ Jimmy replied without missing a beat, eyeing the office door in anticipation of the moment when he would be allowed to walk through it.

With a barely perceptible grimace of frustration, Thomas tried again.

‘Did you stumble? Is there something wrong with the carpet up there perhaps?…’ Jimmy remained silent. ‘…Did you get distracted?…Are you feeling unwell? If you’re sick, perhaps we could…’

‘Oh I bet you’d just love to take my temperature, wouldn’t you Mr Barrow?’ Jimmy cut in with a sneer, giving a snort of laughter at his own cleverness.

That was a far more stinging metaphorical blow than usual, and Thomas found himself actually flinching for a moment (and reminded why he had begun to avoid being alone in Jimmy’s presence, Jimmy seemed to save the most damaging digs for such occasions).

‘James I’m just trying to help.’ He said in exasperation.

Jimmy smirked in disdain. ‘No one needs your kind of help.’

The sudden, sharp sound as Thomas impulsively slammed his palm down onto the wood of Carson’s desk made them both jump, but Thomas speedily recovered and grasped the reins of his sudden rage with a vengeance.

‘You arrogant little prick! HOW DARE YOU?’ Eyes wide, teeth gritted, nostrils flaring, Thomas fixed Jimmy with a ferocious look that quite literally held him in stunned stasis.

Thomas pushed himself up off the desk and advanced. ‘However much of a sorry man you’ve made me; I am your superior, you are mine to instruct, and you WILL show me every respect, is that clear?’

Jimmy’s bravado immediately evaporated. ‘Yes!’ He squeaked out, the color draining from his face at Thomas’s uncharacteristic (and, frankly, terrifying) fury. He hurriedly backed away. ‘Yes, Mr Barrow.’

‘Now listen, brat…’ Thomas advanced until he had Jimmy backed into the corner, coming to a halt a few feet away from him. ‘…Clearly you do need my help. Because tonight you have damaged a dress that is worth more than your wages, distressed a member of your master’s family, ruined dinner…’ Somehow the volume of Thomas’s voice managed to get even louder as he verbally beat Jimmy with the tales of his incompetence. ‘…wasted food, and shown that you, as apparently First Footman, are unable to adequately perform the most basic of tasks! In all my time here, never has a Maid or even a Hall Boy had such a spectacular failure!…’ Thomas visibly shook with the primal pleasure of finally releasing the pent up anger he hadn’t even known was there. ‘…Now WHAT REASON can you give for your incompetence? And for your sake I hope that…’

Through the red-hot haze of his anger, Thomas failed to notice the warning signs which were beginning to make themselves apparent on Jimmy’s face as he shrank into himself at the barrage of heated words.

Thus it was something of a surprise when Jimmy’s face completely crumpled as a loud keening wail ejected itself from his mouth.

The grating sound immediately stopped Thomas’s words mid-flow. He stared in horror at the spectacle in front of him; of a man who suddenly seemed to have misplaced the better part of two decades and was now sobbing and bawling with all the abandon and tragedy of a miserable toddler.

The sound that Jimmy was making was akin to the bleating of a distressed goat, and was so piercing and insistent that Thomas, had he not known better, would have had no trouble believing that Jimmy was actually in acute physical pain.

A lifetime of avoiding any dealings with children whatsoever suddenly came back to bite Thomas in the neck as he stared at Jimmy without a clue what to do…besides panic.

‘Shhh! Shhh!’ He quickly hissed, making what were intended to be calming motions with his hands (the motions actually coming off as though he were trying to vigorously operate factory machinery).

Jimmy’s sobs and wails continued unabated.

‘Jimmy! Please! Shhh!’ Thomas glanced nervously over to the door, suddenly realising that his earlier shouts were probably audible as far away as the servant’s hall and that Jimmy’s subsequent wails were also likely to be drawing attention. Thomas wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about the prospect of being known as the man who had made Jimmy cry.

Mr Carson had never managed to reduce a member of staff to such a state and Thomas feared that someone might take it upon themselves to attempt to intervene (and possibly not to his benefit) before he had the chance to correct the situation…not that he had any idea how to…

As Jimmy gave another loud wail, Thomas frantically searched his mind for what he imagined he himself desiring under such circumstances.  
Having never personally experienced anything resembling effective comfort, save for kind words and encouragement from Mrs Hughes and (in ‘happier’ times) from Miss O’Brien, Thomas was at a complete loss.

The sound that Jimmy was making reached such a pitch as to almost cause physical pain to Thomas, and Thomas found himself desperate to do anything to get him to stop.

Without thinking, he strode forwards and wrapped his arms around Jimmy’s shivering shoulders, burying Jimmy’s face into his chest.  
Suddenly realising what he had just done, Thomas winced in anticipation of the inevitable shout and violent struggle that would follow (most likely resulting in him being pushed away, but hopefully with the side effect of distracting Jimmy long enough to stop him crying) but it didn’t come.

Instead, Jimmy’s cries gradually reduced themselves to small muffled sobs before disappearing entirely as Thomas found himself rocking him slowly from side to side.

Thomas couldn’t help but spare a thought for the effects of mucus and salty tears on his carefully brushed jacket, but the process of crushing Jimmy’s face into his chest to stop the wailing was working far too well for Thomas to consider abandoning it.

Thomas focused all his attention on maintaining the slow swaying motion of their upper torsos as Jimmy relaxed in his grip.  
A strange moment of serenity and stillness settled over them.

Thomas relaxed his head down on top of Jimmy’s, closing his eyes for a seemingly implausible moment of peace, as he slid a hand up Jimmy’s back to soothingly stroke at his neck.

Thomas’s fingers caught the bottom of Jimmy’s hair line, and Thomas allowed them to stray further up to run through Jimmy’s hair, inhaling deeply through his nose, taking in the ever enticing scent of him.

Jimmy didn’t pull away, but Thomas did.

Hating himself for his inability to keep his feelings in check, Thomas quickly released his grip and took a step back.

‘Here…’ He said quickly, fishing out his handkerchief and offering it to Jimmy, who still looked utterly dejected. ‘I didn’t mean to make you cry.’ He added softly.

‘I wasn’t crying!’ Grunted Jimmy pitifully, snatching the offered handkerchief from Thomas’s hand.

‘Of course.’ Said Thomas with an exasperated but resigned sigh. ‘Of course you weren’t.’


End file.
